Come On Home
by Alex E. Andras
Summary: Injured and sick, Estel returns to Rivendell, and remembers why that is where he wishes to be. OneShot.


Come On Home

Summary: Injured and sick, Estel returns Rivendell, and remembers why that is where he wishes to be. One-Shot.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this story. They all belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.

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_Left foot… right foot… left foot… right foot…_

A constant chant running through his head, a slow, steady plod of feet following the instructions given by his brain, the object of his destination fastened to the centre of his memory, a way to keep him moving.

_Left foot… right foot… left foot…_

The silence in the air broken only by his heavy breaths, each one forced out of his lungs. The darkening night making the wooded path perilous, his eyes stayed fixed on the ground, a wary eye on anything that could trip him and halt his march.

_Right foot… left foot… right foot… left foot…_

A harsh cough rose from his chest, and pushed its way from his mouth, and he was forced to slow his already sluggish gait to pull one arm from around his waist and cough into his hand

_Right foot… left foot… right foot… left foot… right foot…_

A flash of lightning, and the heavens opened, sending great torrents of water down onto the parched ground and him, he barely noticed, his mind focused on his coughs, his destination and his chant

_Left foot… right foot… left foot… right foot… lef…_

The chant was thrown, as was his balance, by a hidden pothole in the dark, and he crumpled, hard and unwillingly to the ground, and lay there in the dark, rain washing down over his body

A moan pulled itself from his body, and he twisted his head to the side, out of the mud, and half into the piercing rain. His hair started to plaster itself to the pale skin of his head, and a whimper escaped his mouth as a sudden flash from the storm above stole his vision for a moment.

As the blinding spots of dark light danced out of his vision - leaving behind a darkening edge to his vision which he knew had been growing for a while now, yet told himself had only appeared since the fall - he thought he saw an approaching figure, and then a second, both growing larger as they drew ever closer. And when they got close enough that he was able to see whom they were, he allowed himself a small smile, and slipped into the awaiting arms of unconsciousness.

X

A scattering of whispered voices. A familiarity to their tones although he could not quite understand their words. One word penetrated through the thick darkness of his mind, and, although he still didn't understand he felt his body pay attention and obey, and all to quickly his eyes opened. Only to close again due to the bright lights that flooded them, and an involuntary groan escaped his mouth.

A cool hand rested across his forehead, and he was all too aware that it was too warm, that he was too warm. The whispering of words again, and his eyes once again obeyed the command, flicking open, the hand sheltering them from the worst of the light until they had adjusted, and then the hand was removed.

A familiar face, and also two identical ones, all looking worried, though smiling down at him, and he realised he was lying in a bed, and he was warm and dry.

He smiled back, trying to push himself up, only for six hands to fly out and push him gently back down, for three voices to cluck warnings at him, and to tell him of how bad he was hurt, reciting the list of injuries he had obtained even though he knew each and every single one of them. He had been the one to receive them, after all.

He shifted slightly, and tensed as it brought on a new wave of pain, and once again was subjected to the speech of his three carers - his family - as they once again reminded him of his injuries, as though he had forgotten them from the last time they had stated them, only seconds before.

He did not care however, as the three elves mothered him for the rest of the day, constantly reminding him of his wounds every time he tried to move, only to experience more pain. He realised that he wouldn't care if they continued until he had healed from the wounds and had been allowed to once again travel out into the wilderness on his own, though he doubt that would happen for a while. He was content to stay with the elves he had not seen for three months, and prayed to be able to spend several months where he was, even if he had to stay bed-ridden for the entire time.

For he was home, surrounded by those who loved and cared for him. He was home, and that was where he wished to stay.


End file.
